An Invincible Summer
by Imogen74
Summary: Following TDW, Jane is depressed and in self-imposed isolation. She begins to believe she is going insane, and that Loki might be responsible. Bits of a soft M rating peppered throughout. Lokane. Prompt fill for jeadamized, who is lovely.
1. Chapter 1

_Title borrowed from Camus, "In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer."_

_Takes place after TDW, sans the final scene in the Throne room where Thor talks to Odin/Loki._

* * *

It was winter, that much was obvious. Blue hazed the tepid air with soft magnificence. Steam, like warmth, was seen hovering over the frozen lake in a ponderous dance.

It would be many weeks until the green would grin on the surface of the earth, and until then, Jane Foster would remain.

She was at her grandmother's lake house, having needed a respite after the events in London, after Thor left. Everyone in her family was dead, and Jane had inherited a meagre sum for the trouble of survival. Except this house. This house was loveliness realised in physical form. It was quaint, it was quiet, it was patient, if a house could be called such. It was her grandmother in an ever-living, material form.

And Jane needed her now...now, when she was at her most vulnerable. Now, when she was most unsure, now, the desperation of the word hidden in the mask of her solitude. She desired no one, not even the thunder god, to console her. She wanted only her grandmother and what her love afforded her.

The floorboards creaked under her weight, however minuscule it was. The place was old, it required attention. But Jane really couldn't be bothered with it yet, she was too inside her head to care.

She had suffered possession of the liquid smoke of the Aether, she had fought for Thor, she had nearly died countless times. She should, theoretically, be dead.

But here she was, living, breathing, sipping her tea, in no small part because of Loki.

Loki. What did she think about the mischief maker? He had saved her life. Yet he was, she reminded herself, a villain. A bad guy. A man whose relentless pursuit of power stained any redeeming quality or action he might have or give. It didn't matter, anyway. He was dead.

Dead...like her parents. Dead, like her grandmother. Dead, like the tree outside of the window in the kitchen of the cottage.

Jesus Jane, get ahold of yourself.

She curled herself on the ragged sofa and held her cup close to her face, placing the side of it to her nose for warmth.

She began to think about Thor, and what he was doing. If he would ever give her another thought. Did she care?

A bit, if she was honest. She cared because she had been affectionate. He had worried about her. He had showed her his home, had thought her interesting.

Eh, thought Jane. She should probably just leave it. Too much trouble, really. And she was tired...so very tired of it all.

She had become a master of inheriting impossible situations.

And quaint lakeside homes, she reminded herself.

The sun, in its midwinter rose, began its descent down the horizon. It bade her to bed, for the emotional maze she found herself in was more than a touch distressing.

She got up and went to the bathroom. Jane turned the light on, went to the sink to wash her face. The cold water was a jolt to her warm hands, and she winced. She splashed her face, rubbed it dry, and looked in the mirror.

A face, not her own, was looking back.

She gasped, jumped backwards, but in the blink of an eye, it was gone.

She shook her head. Great. She was going crazy, too.

Jane hurried to bed, but the face she had beheld remained burned to her brain...

Pale, black hair, sharp features...blue eyes...

There was no denying it.

That face belonged to Loki.

* * *

Sordidly and scathingly Jane awoke the next morning. Her dreams were peppered with many vile images: of Svartalfheim, of elves with lost eyes, of Thor being pummeled, of red sky, of hunger...

And of a man in green and black who always stood over her in her quaking fear.

Her bones creaked with stiff knots in muscles that screamed from the cold. She felt old in her confinement.

Jane decided not to brush her teeth in the bathroom, she would go downstairs and brush at the sink in the kitchen.

Coffee on. Music playing...the Beatles? She put on "Across the Universe," and listened to Lennon wail about rain and change and paper cups.

_She was about eight, and her parents had taken her here in the dead of winter with her grandmother. They got snowed in, so dad lit a fire, they made s'mores, and he taught her how to dance while mom and grandma clapped the beat_.

A tear trickled down her face at the memory.

All of her life Jane felt like she was chasing something. Chasing her first crush (Joe something...he couldn't be bothered with her), chasing her dead parents (they died when she was ten in a car wreck, and she imagined the manner of their deaths to be symbolic of them always moving away from her), chasing her education (though she was very, very bright, Jane's field was traditionally male dominated, and she suffered many chastising remarks that nearly broke her), chasing the stars, chasing knowledge, Thor...

All of this wandering added to the weight of her fatigue.

She decided to go outside. Take a walk.

On went her boots. On her heavy coat, her hat and gloves.

She went outside.

The air was wet, and pressed against her like a suffocating hug. The evergreens were drooping with the snow that had fallen in the midnight hours, and her boots crunched the floor as though shards of glass lay at her feet. Her breath hung suspended in the air before her, specter- like and surreal.

She made her way to the lake, it had leafless trees surrounding its expanse, and they reminded Jane of some sort of towering creature with arms splayed in a grotesque embrace. She stopped at the edge. She looked down into the ice of the tub, and her brow furrowed.

A soft green light could be seen under the surface. She squinted in effort to inspect the anomaly better...she knelt down...no...definitely green. She looked around to see if the frozen lake had other places where this strange light could be seen, but no. It appeared to be just in this particular spot.

And it churned slightly, as though it was immune to its solid encasement.

Fascinating.

Jane touched the surface directly above the light. She took off a glove. It felt a bit warmer than its identical neighboring ice patch.

Energy. Energy creates warmth.

She removed the other glove and sank her fingers into the water...the ice a bit scattered.

Something pulled at her, and she lost her wits. She fell completely into the freezing water.

Choking and flailing, Jane panicked. She couldn't see, couldn't breathe, her mind desperately trying to find an answer to her predicament.

Nothing...there was nothing but cold black nothingness. She wanted this...she wanted to surrender to it...it would be so easy...

But then she was being thrust upward. Something was pushing her to the surface...and she emerged, breaking the surface of the water in a heave and the air stung and she choked up the murky lake water.

She crawled onto the bank, grasping the solid surface wet with snow and ice.

Jane collapsed, coughing and retching, delirious from her scare.

She laid there, eyes streaming, and sat up. She delicately stood, and went cautiously to the edge once more. The light seemed darker, closer to the surface.

Get back to the house, Jane.

She turned, and saw a splash of scarlet staining the snow. Blood. It was blood. Her head whipped around her. An animal, probably. The blood didn't look fresh...maybe it had been attacked overnight by a predator.

She staggered her way back and entered the house.

* * *

Jane was in her bathtub half an hour later, in an attempt to warm her body from the icy depths of her tumble.

"_Jane! Don't stand so close, dear! You'll fall!" Her mother's voice rang out in the summer scene._

_"I'm fine, mom!"_

_It was two weeks before the accident. The dreadful day that had sealed her fate._

_There was a scream, and Jane fell into the cool water of the lake she had just fallen into. Luckily, she could swim, but her mom came running over, and dragged her out anyway._

_"Jane! You take too many risks! That water is thick. You could've gotten caught on something, and wouldn't have been able to get out."_

_Jane smiled at her mom. "You worry too much. Everything is gonna be alright!"_

She stood from her bath, and wrapped a towel around her.

She was getting dressed when she heard a noise downstairs. Odd, that. The entire area was always so quiet...the snow muffled any sound.

She put on some clothes...hesitated...and took a poker from the fireplace in the bedroom.

She crept slowly, quite forgetting the floorboard's protest, and went into the kitchen.

Nothing.

But when she went to the sitting room, a fire blazed.


	2. Chapter 2

The heat from the fire was filling the dense space of the room. Jane was terrified, for only two possibilities presented: either she had lit a fire and had forgotten, which suggested she was insane or utterly distracted and couldn't trust herself, or someone else had lit it. Neither one was attractive to her at present.

She looked all over, and went to the door. It was locked, as she recalled having done, and there was no sign of an intruder. No snow on the mat by the door…no wet marks to speak of.

She shook her head. The poker was still in her hand, and she placed it by the sofa, sitting down.

Jane thought that she should eat…when was the last time? Yesterday? Yes. Breakfast yesterday morning. She would get up and make herself something, just as soon as she rested her eyes…

_His hand was reaching for her…but it wasn't right…she lunged away…where was he? she needed him, not the one reaching for her from the blackness…she needed him…The thunder god…the oily voice coiled around her in a vice…Stay here, Jane, I'll never harm you…but she couldn't believe it…she ran…she ran until her legs gave out, for they were leaden and opposed her frantic movement…she collapsed on the soft earth, warm and sweet…Jane's eyes struggled to see…to focus on something…anything…she was being pulled upward…someone had her…she turned in a panic…and he was smiling at her, devilish in his grin, with something else underneath…_

Loki.

Jane's eyes flew open, her breath ragged.

It was Loki. He was what was haunting her.

Great…a ghost. Jane rubbed her face in exhaustion.

But that didn't make sense. Why would Loki be haunting _her?_ He didn't care about her, he had no connection to her.

He had saved her, she reminded herself, for Thor's sake. He loved his brother, if nothing else. She should leave…go now…maybe she could escape the specter of Loki, or whatever it was that was the source of her torture.

Jane got up, turned quickly, but in her state of malnutrition, she stumbled, and her head fell on the upright poker. If she had been an inch further to her right, she might've impaled herself.

Blackness enveloped her_. _

_She was on the rainbow bridge…beautiful…someone was screaming…she looked, and saw Thor at the edge, Odin standing behind him…I could've done it, father!…Thor screamed….nothing…and then the elves…and Thanos…and a promise…and then she was walking with Thor…and something inhibited her speech…and in a glass cage…and many monsters…and death…despair…sorrow, want, pain…so much pain…and then desperation…save Thor…a knife to the chest…collapse…void…travel…cold…she saw herself in the cottage…she saw Thor in Asgard…Odin honoring him in funeral garb…she saw the lake…green magic…pain pain pain in her chest…_

Jane inhaled as though drowning, as though she was in the lake once more, gasping in a frenzied movement. They felt like an augury, those visions…for though they had certainly already happened, Jane knew that they were only the beginning of her scourge.

It was making sense. Ever since she had spied him in the mirror…the green in the lake…the dreams…the fire…it was the ghost of a sorcerer.

Her head was throbbing and sore from her fall. How long had she been unconscious? Her hand went to her forehead…blood was to be found on her fingers.

"Shit," she said to the empty room, and her voice sounded stale from lack of use.

She got up on wobbly legs and went to the kitchen. Jane wetted a towel and placed it to her forehead. She felt ill…was she concussed? Yes…she thought, and retched bile from her depths into the sink.

She looked up and out of the window.

He stood there, watching her…black surrounding him…pale in the moonlight…his face tilted downward as he penetrated her eyes with his steady stare.

He was about fifty yards from the house. Jane stood away from the window…and turned and ran out the door to reach him.

No shoes, no coat, nothing to protect her from the elements.

She wasn't paying attention…he was there…and then he wasn't.

Jane went over to the spot he had been standing at, and there, in the snow, was a spot of fresh blood.

Her feet were stinging. She should go back to the house.

Shivering uncontrollably, Jane made way back, the ice and snow burning her soles in painful recurrence. She entered the house, closed the door behind her.

The fire seemed to have been rekindled.

_Jane._

A voice.

She whirled. "What?"

Nothing.

"Fuck you, Loki!" and she went tenderly to soak her feet in a bucket of warm water.

After a brief interlude that consisted of water, soup and crackers, Jane sat once more with a book. She couldn't risk falling asleep…she had been concussed.

What would her grandma think of her now? What would she say about her life? Lonely. Desperate. Insane. She was insane, thinking she saw Loki in the snow…but the blood…the dreams…could ghosts bleed?

She shook her head. She was tired once more.

She must be depressed. Never in her life had she felt more fatigued as she had these past few days in the cottage.

Her eyes sagged.

_Wake up, Jane._

Her head flew up. She looked around. No one.

"Goddammit, Loki. I really hate you," she murmured. "Can't you go find someone else to haunt?"

She returned to her book. "The Mists of Avalon," she recalled having liked it the first time she read it, but that was before…everything.

She read about Merlin and Igraine, about Morgan and Morgause; she read and read until her eyes swam and her head ached. How long should she make herself stay awake?

_You should be fine to take your sleep now._

THAT was in her head. His voice was in her head.

She screamed…

Jane ran upstairs, and without going to the bathroom, without changing her clothes, without doing anything in preparation for bed, dove to her bed, pulled the covers up over herself, and cried.

* * *

Light threatened the black of her eyelids. Her eyes creaked with an age that was not her own…she almost felt as though when she went to look at herself in the mirror, she would see an ancient woman, and all of the goings on were a fabrication of a very old mind. It would be a relief to be old, she thought, it would give her an excuse for her fatigue.

Jane wouldn't avoid the bathroom this morning, and when she went in, noticed her thirty-three year old face looking back at her.

Oh, well.

She brushed her teeth, her hair, went to change into some sweatpants and a sweater.

How much longer had she promised herself to stay here? Another month?

Perhaps she would cut it short a week or two. The place was no longer the source of comfort she had imagined.

She went downstairs to put some coffee on.

It felt warmer than usual in the house. The fire must not have went out. That was odd.

After she began to brew the coffee, she went to the sitting room.

And she fainted.

* * *

"Wake up, Jane Foster. Wake up!"

Her eyes opened slowly.

There, looming over her, was Loki.

Hastily, she pulled herself away, backing away from him…"What the FUCK?! What the fuck are you doing here? Aren't you dead? Are you a ghost? Why are you bothering me?" she stopped and looked at him. He as standing now, his arm across his torso, as if in pain. "Are you bleeding?" she noticed a wet black spot across his middle.

He leaned against the back of the sofa where he had been sleeping before the mortal fainted.

"Those, Miss Foster, are a lot of questions….and truthfully…I cannot answer all of them…" and he slipped a bit from weakness. "…at least not until my strength returns…"

She got up and hurried toward him. She heaved him up and helped him to the sofa, gingerly lowering him down.

He gasped and cringed. He let out a soft moan.

"Let me see…" she said, taking his hand from his side.

He glared at her. "Do not touch me!"

"You're bleeding…you should…"

"I know quite well that I'm bleeding, and I thank you for your astute observation and reminder. Might I have some water…I haven't had refreshment in many weeks now…" his head leaned back.

She squinted at him, but got up and fetched him and herself some water.

"Loki…tell me what's going on, please."

He drank deeply. He sat up, and began to take off his armor. They fell into nothingness with a quick flick of his wrists and arms.

He handed her the glass. "More, please…"

She got him more.

When she got back, he was carefully pulling his shirt off…it was sticking to him from the blood. His face was contorted in pain and concentration. Finally, after a few excruciating seconds, it was off, and he fell back on the sofa, his breath labored.

Jane looked at his chest, and nearly retched again.

The wound was gaping…it looked like it had happened yesterday, not weeks ago. Fresh blood seeped from the split of skin.

"How…that looks like it just happened…" she paused. "So…you're not a ghost…"

"If by ghost you mean a draugr, then no. I know I likely carry not a pleasing scent at present, but I hope not the stench of them."

"Did you die?" Jane asked.

He looked at her. "I did not…I'm here, aren't I?'

"Oh," and remembering herself, she went to get some water, a towel, and some antiseptic for the injury.

She knelt beside him on the sofa, and began to clean his chest. At first he pulled away, but then allowed her to continue.

He looked at her curiously. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you are hurt. But I'm still really pissed off. You've been torturing me! I thought I was going crazy!"

"If I had been able to control any of it, I certainly would not have chosen to come here…"

She stopped her action. "I don't understand."

He sighed, and placed his hand on his forehead. "After you and Thor left me to die…"

"We thought that you were dead!"

He held up a finger. "Don't interrupt…after you left, and I regained consciousness, I attempted to get back to Asgard the way we came, assuming that the two of you had gone there…I was much too weak, however, and became trapped in the void. Because of that…my wound neither worsened nor healed…I was lost in time and space…periodically appearing here on Midgard, in Asgard, and several other places. I was slowly regaining some strength…so…yesterday, I happened to be able to materialize for small moments…I lit you a fire…I spoke to your mind…I watched you from the outside. It was purely happenstance that at the time I felt strongest I was here, on Midgard, in your presence."

"Oh," it was beginning to make sense. Sorta.

"Yes. So now, I had braved the void, slipping in and out of existence. And I shall ask for your hospitality for a day or two, until I am able to return to Asgard…I am still too weak to make the journey."

Jane swallowed. "Um…Ok…sure."

He nodded. "I am quite tired, Miss Foster…"

"Jane."

"Jane. Would you mind terribly getting me a blanket? I'll take my sleep here."

She thought a second. He was hurt, exhausted, and told her he would only stay a short while. Ok, Jane Foster. He might be a monster, but you're not. Help the alien, and send him off. At least you know now that you're not crazy.

She got up and brought him an afghan, bringing also some gauze to wrap the seeping wound. She sat on the edge of the sofa, and began to unwrap the packaging.

"What is that?" Loki asked.

"Gauze. You'll need it, or the material will stick to the wound."

He snickered. "I have much more effective means than your 'gauze,' whatever that is," and he waved his hand over his chest, covering it in a sheen and protecting his skin.

"Oh. Alright, then." She left him with the blanket and went to make tea, abandoning the thought of coffee. "Do you like tea, Loki?"

She hadn't seen, but his eyebrow arched at her mention of his name. "I cannot tell you. I've never had it."

"It has medicinal value. And it's calming, so I enjoy it during the day," she called in from the kitchen.

A few minutes later she brought two steaming cups in and handed Loki one. Jane took a seat in an easy chair, a coffee table separating the two.

He sipped it. "It's...not horrific."

"Well, I'm so pleased it doesn't horrify you," she replied with feeling.

He smirked. "I should rest. I am grateful for your allowing me to take time here, but truly, the longer I put off my rest, the longer it shall take for me to heal."

Jane nodded. She downed her cup, put on her outside clothes, and left for a walk.

* * *

The sun'a blush brushed her face with long fingers of rays. It seemed brighter today, the doleful haze which had pressed her the past few days seemed not so dire. She wasn't crazy! Just depressed. That was marginally better.

Of course, she had a wounded alien sleeping on her sofa, so there was that.

She shook off the thoughts and decided to merely enjoy the sun in the freezing air she so seldom breathed.

Her mind settled on Thor. She had been in love once, but not with him...she barely knew him, really. And there was the fact that she was disposed to melancholy, despite her sarcastic wit. Thor was not. He was tenacious. He was fanciful. He was very, very hot without a shirt on. He was quick to temper, quicker to lose it, and formidable in his wrath.

No...depression was not among his attributes, she went on, winding her way through the thick, naked trees of the wood. And though Jane was not often welling in existential angst, it did present its pensive glance now and then. Only someone who had shared this dubious state could ever really understand the ponderous dark which accompanied it, and which kissed her very being with it's cracked lips.

Abandon, it Jane. Let it go. It was a mercurial affair, anyway.

She would stay here, then, in the cold scene of New England a bit longer, and make her way back to New Mexico.

New. Two of them...two things, not so new...quite old, in fact, named in order to suggest newness...different, changed mildly by chance and folly.

And then there was Loki, asleep, wounded on her sofa. He was a strange sort...psychopathic murder notwithstanding. But she had dreamed about him...had _been_ him when she had been knocked unconscious...and she had felt his despair, his isolation...it was familiar, and that was concerning.

Her mind was swimming with thoughts untethered and random. She made her way back to the house. The closer she got, the more she noticed the color in the snow...red and green drops were scattered, as if the trees were dripping with the hues.

Jane went inside to find a roaring fire and Loki gone.


	3. Chapter 3

_The wind whipped around her in the dry, breathing open of Svartalfheim…she watched as the elves closed in around her…she saw Jane, lying there, the Aether holding her fast…she saw Thor…replaced his hand…she ran to Jane…she protected her…Thor cared for the girl…she needed to ensure her survival…she needed to do this for her brother…._

* * *

It had been two days.

Jane's nightmares were worsening, and she felt utterly at a loss. Perhaps she should seek professional help this time...perhaps she had gone off the deep end. She couldn't guarantee that Loki had ever been here. She could've imagined the entire thing.

But why the nightmares? Why him and not Thor?

Why was there always fresh green and red drops of something outside of the house?

She shook from despair. Jane had never before felt so isolated, even after her parents died. Because she had herself...but now, she didn't even have that.

* * *

It was dusk. The pale sun was being pulled down the horizon, and the endless cold of blind night was approaching. She had been wandering for quite some time, haphazardly, attempting to coalesce the many disturbing thoughts her mind was pondering. There was even one point when she thought it might be preferable to end her days here, never returning to New Mexico, and fade into strange anonymity.

The dark was approaching fast, Jane having lost track of much...but finally took notice of the looming gloom. A noise was to be heard behind her...a crack of a tree branch, perhaps...which meant something had broken it. She turned. Nothing.

She picked up her pace a bit. Her breath was felt pulsing her ears. Quick, Jane...get back to the house.

She tripped, skinning her knee on the icy floor of the wood...she could see the house from her position...get up...but her leg was caught on something...a branch was sticking through her pants where the tear was.

And then she saw it. A wolf. Strange, that...Jane hadn't seen a wolf here in so long. Stop it, Jane. Get up!

She began to panic...shit shit shit...Jane grasped at the branch...the wolf came closer, prowling...head bent in a malicious glare...

And then green light illuminated the space, and the wolf was gone. Her head turned...there, standing above her, was Loki. He held a hand down to her in aid.

Jane freed her clothing from the steadfast branch and took his hand.

And then they were standing in the sitting room, Loki still holding her hand.

Jane swallowed. "Thank you."

Loki nodded and dropped her hand, went to the sofa and sat down.

"Are you real?" she asked, turning to him and walking over.

"I should hope so...but as of right now, I cannot be certain..."

"Well. That's really helpful," and she sat in the easy chair across from him.

He leaned back. He looked a bit better...but still gaunt, and a slight scowl graced his countenance as if pain remained underneath. "Apologies, Jane. I'm quite distracted...I'm haphazardly navigating space and time...my magic seems to be broken..."

"Broken?"

He wasn't looking at her, he was staring into the fire that never ceased now. "Yes...it's becoming slightly more controllable...but...I fear I'll be in this state a bit longer."

"You mean, popping in and out of existence?"

He nodded, and then looked at her. He appeared so tired.

"Funny," Jane began. "I kinda feel like I've been popping in and out of existence since I got here. Sometimes I'm here, in the moment...sometimes I'm ten, falling in the lake...sometimes I'm you, and..." her voice faded.

Loki's eyes squinted. "Sometimes you are me? What do you mean?"

"Ah..." she wasn't certain if she should tell him. It was a very strange and intimate thing..."Well...I've been having these dreams...I've been experiencing some of your emotions during...ah...times of crisis?"

"Such as?"

"Well...like when you fell from the rainbow bridge..."

His eyes widened at that.

"When you learned about your mother's death..."

His face hardened.

"When you saved Thor and I..."

He looked away. "And you see this from my perspective?"

Jane nodded, despite the lack of his notice. "Yes."

He looked back at her. "Those flecks of green you see on the snow...that is my magic...it seeps from me like the blood does...it is me in a way...I knew when you fell into the lake those days ago, and my magic both pulled you in and saved you...but the anomalies which are being dispersed are me...and perhaps you may have physically absorbed it while in the lake..."

Jane's mouth fell. "Your magic? That's what that green stuff is? And it's inside me?!" she paused. "Is that why this is happening...because you're losing too much of your power?"

"It replenishes itself...a mortal wound can cause this phenomenon...and what I suffered certainly counts..."

She nodded. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a stuck boar."

She laughed. "But better? At least better than..." She paused. "You were, in fact, here the other day, right?"

"You doubt it?"

"Don't you?"

"I..." he began. "I see why you would...however, I have no reason to doubt it, since you recall my visit as well..."

"Ok...let's see it, then..."

* * *

He looked unsure, but began to undress. Loki was in no state to argue, for he was enervated and merely longed for comfortable rest. The mortal was not his first choice for companionship, but he had been wrong in his insistence that he needed no one...it was that resolve which had poisoned his thoughts after he discovered Odin's deception. He needed no one. He had himself...

But he was wrong. He needed Thor...he needed Frigga...and his heart ached with such burning savagery that he couldn't think...he had only his brother now.

And he was relying on his brother's mortal lover for comfort on Midgard.

There was nothing to be done. He could barely think. The drain of his magic and the constant dwelling between realms and the stark emptiness of space was enough to humble anyone. Even him.

His torso ached with the feeling of a thousand mammoths pressing on his ribs. He couldn't breath without the rip of pain.

Yet it was better than a few days ago, and for that, he was grateful.

He had shaken off his shirt, having placed his armor away but at the ready, and leaned back delicately.

Loki watched as Jane carefully examined his wound, but never actually touched him.

It had been so very long since he had touched anyone or had been touched with anything other than malice. He was so closed off...so isolated and dire in his demeanor. His left hand twitched at the thought of placing it on the side of her face. What would she do?

What was he thinking. This was Thor's woman. He was Loki. He didn't put his hand on the sides of faces in soft deliberate manners.

She got up after a minute or two...and it was a good thing for it...he had nearly succumbed to the temptation of her touch.

Jane returned with more water and medicine for cleaning...soon he would be able to close the wound with his magic, but he wouldn't risk it just yet...it was as though when he used it, it poured out of him and he would lose control utterly...he had only used it briefly to scare off the wolf to be spared the burden of knowing she was hurt and having to tell Thor he didn't help her.

Jane took a wet towel and cleaned off the dried blood. Her face serious in concentration. "It looks much better," she mumbled.

She took a q-tip and applied the ointment, smiling to herself at the enormity of the incredible injury and the smallness of the q-tip. It was like painting a mural on the side of a building with a toothbrush.

"Should I put the gauze on this time?" she asked, looking at him.

His eyes snapped at her question. "Hmmm? The what?" He had been languish, staring absently at her.

Jane smiled. "Gauze? Or would you rather just put that sheen-y stuff on?"

"Oh...perhaps you should...I'd rather not use my magic just yet..."

She nodded, and began to dress the wound.

After she cut the tape and smoothed it onto his skin she looked up, smiling.

Loki was deliberate in his look. She was a bit startled..."Loki?"

He swallowed...his mind tormented by her presence suddenly...his nature demanding one thing, his reason another...but he had been outside of himself for so long...it was as though he didn't recognize the sensation of longing...at least, not in this enterprise...

His hand went to hers. Would she pull away?

"Thank you, Jane. I..." he what? "I appreciate your care."

Jane looked at his hand clasped around hers, then looked up at him and smiled. "Well...you've saved me twice now..." she shrugged.

He nodded.

"Will you disappear?" there was a worry in her voice.

His heart slowed at her tone. "I cannot say..."

"Then leave something here, so that I know I'm not going insane."

...and time slowed, and the room dimmed, and everything around them darkened in the singularity of the moment...

He brought his other hand to her face, and leaned quite close...Jane's breath hitched...stop this...she should stop this...but his face was too close now, and his eyes on her mouth...and her eyes fell...and they met in a soft kiss.

But that did nothing to satiate the sudden realization that they simultaneously had: they both needed this, desperately.

So Jane, as he pulled away a centimeter, grabbed the back of his neck and lunged forward, and a passion arose between them.

It had been so long since he had felt the kiss of a woman...and Jane's agony of isolation was suddenly quelled in his embrace...and he, though he was loathe to admit it, had longed for this for what seemed an eternity in his solitary navigation.

Arms, hands, fingers, lips all in a frenzy of want...and soft moans and cries at the realization of the hunger.

But the pain suddenly pierced the moment, and Loki's hand, which was to be found at Jane's still clothed breast, flew to his chest in useless subjugation of the ripping tumult of agony.

The moment had passed...the room lightened. Jane's fingers were on her swollen lips, which had so recently been on Loki's neck.

He looked up at her. He cleared his throat.

"I..." he began.

Jane put her fingers to his lips. She shook her head.

Jane gently lowered him back into the sofa, and pushed him slightly to its back.

She then laid down next to him, and pulled the afghan up around them.

She felt the warmth of the fire, and she promised herself that if he was gone when she woke up, she would not think that she was crazy.


	4. Chapter 4

He was laying prone with Jane's back pressed against his side, and she was breathing steadily. His chest ached with muted soreness. His mind stumbled over the scene which was so fresh…when he had kissed the mortal, and when she had returned it.

What he experienced was unlike much of anything he had heretofore. It was frantic, unreasonable, baffling…and wonderful. He felt alive, something he hadn't done in weeks and weeks. In truth, quite longer than weeks. Since Odin denounced his cry for acknowledgement, since he fell from the bridge, Loki felt quite dead; moving amongst those vibrant with life, not magic and blood emanating from them like a waterfall.

It was his situation made physical: Loki had been losing himself for quite some time, and now he was dripping his very soul as well as his life blood from his person.

But something happened in that moment, his wandering had halted momentarily. It had not been purely opportunistic, though he had desired her touch, however unexplainable that was. No…there was an understanding that existed in the space between them (however minuscule that space was at present), they were experiencing a kind of mutual loss, a dance in tandem, and both were hopeless to control it. And part of him recognized that, and that same part seized on it in a desperate hope to stop the reeling of his mind and body. He wanted to stop, and he sensed that Jane felt that too…that so much of what had been happening to her had been occurring without her consent, without her control, and he reached for her in that vein. He could stop this, he thought, with this action, this hold of something real…

He finally succumbed to the exhaustion whose weight was so towering in his being, the fatigue whose grip was tight with wrath at his inability to take rest.

Loki fell asleep next to Jane by the firelight of the house, a touch concerned that he would wake to find himself alone and cold in the yawn of the black void.

* * *

So hot. It was so very unbelievably hot…Jane threw off the blanket covering her in agitation. And then she heard it…a soft groan from next to her.

Loki. He was still there…and they had kissed. And it was wonderful. She sighed, and got up.

She had kissed him. She had needed to, because she suddenly felt as if she had only that moment, and that to lose that moment would be to put an end to something inside of her…it didn't make sense, but there it was. She had believed that she was going insane, that she couldn't trust herself…but kissing Loki somehow meant that she was real…she was more than isolated memories and thoughts and pain and loneliness and inexplicable clumsiness.

She wanted more. She wanted more of what that moment had afforded her. She wasn't quite certain what more was, she only knew that she wanted it.

She wasn't going to leave the house. He might be gone when she returned, and she wasn't about to risk it…not when she felt so much better.

Jane brewed some coffee.

Jane brushed her teeth. She changed clothes, and hurried back to the sitting room in desperation…

He was still there, asleep.

Ok, Jane. Calm down.

She fixed her coffee and got her book. She would read and watch him until he woke up.

A few hours passed and she heard him move, then moan in pain.

"Loki?"

His eyes opened. He turned to face her.

"I'm still here," he said.

"You're still here, yes. Thank god," and she smiled.

He returned her smile softly, and began to sit up. Jane put her book down, wondering if she should help, but decided against it. "How are you feeling?"

He sat upright and looked at her. "Rather like…waking up after decades of sleep…"

"But your wound…"

"…hurts."

She nodded. "I'm so glad you're still here…I was so very worried that you'd be gone."

"Were you?"

"Of course. I've been thinking I've been going crazy…but you…being here, and explaining what's happening…"

Loki nodded his understanding. "Well, I'm glad to have helped."

Jane smiled. "Would you like something to drink?"

He shook his head. He patted the sofa with his right hand, indicating that she should join him.

A flutter in her chest at the unspoken suggestion, and she went.

He took her hand, and began tracing circles in her palm. "This is real…" he said.

"This is real," Jane repeated.

He leaned toward her and kissed her cheek. "That was real," he whispered on her skin.

Jane swallowed. Her face turned toward his, and she took his bottom lip between her's, then quickly deepened it. They did not break the kiss, and Loki eased her back into the sofa, pressing her against the back of it. His hands were all over her, her hands in his hair…his arms…trying to be mindful of his chest.

He broke it, breathing hard. He swallowed…this needed to stop. He placed a very gentle kiss to her mouth and then sat back.

Jane was left with a want in the pit of her stomach. But she knew that this was impossible, so she didn't press the issue. Not only would he be unable to comfortably enjoy sex, she was thinking about having sex with him - Loki. Thor's brother. A murderer.

Except now, he seemed so alone, like her. So sad, like her. Desperate, like her.

And it could be a source of comfort for them both.

Jane got up and went to the kitchen. She brought him back some water.

"Tell me about your mother," Jane said.

Anger welled. She was asking him about Frigga. His mother. He never spoke about her…and this mortal had the audacity to bring her up. "Why?"

"Because. You love her."

He looked at her quizzically. He drained the glass of water. He began to tell her about his mother.

"…but Thor never appreciated her magic…and I learned so quickly…and mother did fret when I would tease him with it…hiding his things away…Odin was always cross, but mother didn't care. Not really…"

He had been talking for nearly two consecutive hours, and Jane was held rapt. He had eaten some soup, he had drank some tea, and he seemed in much better spirits. He had Jane laughing at his wit, and marvel at his language.

There was finally a pause in his tale.

"Lemme see your chest," Jane said.

He looked at her and nodded.

She went and began to tear the tape off. "Well…I must say…you heal quickly. It looks like it might be getting ready to close up."

He didn't answer.

She went, as per usual, and obtained the ointment and the water, setting to clean it and dress it afresh. She sat next to him and began cleaning it with the water. He hissed his breath, for though it was considerably better, it still hurt tremendously.

"It should be better quite soon," she observed.

No answer.

She looked up at him and put the ointment on the q-tip. "Another couple of days and you'll be able to use your magic to heal it."

She applied the stuff.

Jane took the gauze and covered the wound, and when she finished she smiled up at him. "There. You're good for a while."

"Jane."

"Yes?"

"I…apologize for my hasty…action this morning. I cannot explain it adequately…"

Jane looked at him with a hint of hurt. "And what about last night? Do you apologize for that as well?"

"No."

"Why not?"

He looked directly into her eyes. "Because it needed doing. And I'm glad I did."

"But this morning didn't?'

He looked away. "Not exactly. We had established the reality of our situation…I suppose that I …" he what? "…may have been rash."

Jane's gaze fell to her feet. "I don't regret it. Any of it. Last night, sleeping here with you…kissing you this morning…I needed it, and I think that you did too."

"It matters but little what I need. You are Thor's woman, and I made a grave error in behaving thus."

Jane's eyes shot up in anger. "I am NOT Thor's woman! We aren't…we've never…"

"What do you mean? You love him…"

She laughed. "I do not. Nor does he love me."

Loki's head shook in disbelief. "I believe he is prepared to abandon everything for you, Jane Foster."

"Well, he doesn't need to. I don't want him," she said, getting up.

Loki was left quite shocked. She didn't want Thor. What was to be gleaned from this development? He turned toward the kitchen behind him and winced a bit. "You are going to reject him?"

"He hasn't proposed anything. Not even a relationship. We haven't even slept together…in any way, shape or form. I think that you and I have been more intimate in the past day than he and I have ever been," she paused. "Wait…" she appeared to be thinking back, and counting. "No…I kissed him three times…"

He was half tempted to fix that discrepancy, but decided against it. "I see."

"Do you?"

"A bit, yes. Shockingly, you do not love Thor…"

"Nope," and she reentered the sitting room.

"And have no wish to continue with a courtship."

"Ah…no," and she sat across from him in the chair.

He nodded. "Tell me what you remember about your parents."

Jane swallowed.

"...and then the social worker told me that I'd be living with my grandma. Which was fine, but I was an orphan..." she paused. "And she passed away the following summer. Left me this house..."

She had been talking for an hour, not really noticing Loki's face during it. He was held rapt by this mortal's tale of woe.

"This is your grandmother's house?"

"Yes."

"Why are you here?" It was an obvious question, one that should have been asked hours ago.

"Because I needed to think."

"About?"

Jane looked at him, and paused. She had nearly forgotten. "About what had happened to me. The Aether, Thor. Everything."

Loki's face contorted a bit in disbelief. "What needed sorting? You were safe, you don't love Thor...I fail to see the need for contemplation."

"Well...for normal people, Loki, that's quite a lot."

He shrugged. "Mortals make much of little, I suppose."

"Little!" her voice raised. "That's not a little! It's my life, my future!"

"Jane, you need to live more in the moment. Everything is fine...and you're safe, and quite sane."

She got up. "Right. And you're clearly the picture of mental health."

Her sarcasm wasn't lost on the silver tongue. "You believe me to be mentally unstable?"

Jane laughed. "World domination mean anything to you?"

She thought that he was going to be really angry, instead he laughed. "Touché, Dr Foster...but you should know, my mind wasn't my own during that escapade."

"Um...isn't that what I was saying?"

"No. I mean to say that I was possessed...I was acting out someone else's plan. Someone who had threatened Asgard. Now tell me Jane, if a villain threatened Midgard, would you not protect her?"

Jane sat back down. "Yes," she said sheepishly.

"Yes."

She swallowed. "I needed to come here. I needed comfort. This place gives it to me."

He nodded.

She shrugged. "Are you hungry?"

"I am not."

"Well...I am..."

Jane went to the kitchen, Loki got up and followed her. "Have you often suffered from intense sadness?"

"Often enough," Jane replied.

"And what quells the state?"

Jane blushed. "Wine, sometimes...writing..." her voice fell to almost a whisper. "...and sometimes sex..."

Loki smirked. "Indeed. Well..." and he conjured two glasses of wine. "What do you write?"

"Everything, really..." she sipped.

"Stories?"

"Yes."

"Poetry?"

"Sometimes...but it's no good," and she went back to making her salad.

"You should let someone else determine that," and he leaned against the counter.

"No way. You are not reading anything I wrote. It's ridiculous. It's so angst-y...and..." she turned.

He was gone.

She thought a minute. He had used magic to conjure the wine...maybe he wasn't ready yet.


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: this chapter borderlines on an M rating...please proceed with that in mind._

_Singed perspective…they see what they want…they damn her because its convenient to do so…and there is Thor and Odin…they cannot mask their delight at her absence…they laugh and are relieved she is gone…the rooms are fragrant and gay…and she sulks in a black corner of the hall…its a shadow, like her…a posit of dream…a cadence of an algorithm she once knew on memory, but in the heat of Asgard, it vanishes from thought…_

She was staring out of the window. The days are a bit longer now. The sun more orange and stationary; it lacks its desperate need to hide from the impertinence of earth's wicked winter.

And the trees aren't so laden with thick snow…and the lake not so rigid with stubborn ice. And her muscles aren't so waxen, and her hair not so frantic…her eyes can focus now…Jane was healing.

Her visions born of Loki's magic skimming inside of her are of Asgard, so he must have landed there. But he hasn't announced himself. He is hiding.

Like Jane.

Like the sun, until recently.

Like the wolf who stalked her in dusk's whisper and feather of existence…slowly biding its time…he will strike…

Jesus, Jane. Calm down.

She missed Loki. Though they only had a short time together, he was comforting. He had made her laugh, and she remembered herself.

She wondered if he would even bother coming back.

Probably not.

When he was ready he'd announce himself and the healers of Asgard would see him right.

Jane went to the sofa where they had kissed …where he had slept…with her…no. Where her grandmother had read to her the tales of Narnia and Jane was transported to another world where lions were gods…like angry muscles and wild hair and beards and booming voices…or like cords of muscles and soft tones and smooth face and inky hair with poetic phrases and delicate touch….

She almost slapped herself.

She got out her notebook and began to write…

Cold overwhelming sensations of doubt fills my eyes & I long to escape that which I built of my own accord.  
I sit in melancholy attitude, pining for that which always hangs on with nimble fingers & parched lips.  
Severe & wan my mind wavers onward lethal, scant, solemn mockery & tepid soul.  
Skip backward my sweet, I'll sing a song of dew that tapers in the morning & rots by midday.  
Forever changeful my soul embarks on its own journey of fortitude so righteous like a dove that glides along the crest of dusk.  
I love that wonton feel. I need a herald song to quell my tears. I need want long for more that will never quench my lips so dry like the earth in July. Steadfast & strong my resolve has no forbearance . Weak & sick & false like mired contemplative argument. I fear that which holds me. I love that which bends.

Damn. That was a dance she'd soon forget.

She crumpled up the paper and threw it in the bin.

Jane made some soup and went to tend to some laundry. She would begin to plan her return to New Mexico in the morning.

* * *

_It was her. She was Jane…and she was in Asgard, clothed in luxurious silk garments…and there was Thor…imposing in the doorway…he smiled at her and she went to him…as she touched his hand, a spark of energy escaped…something was behind her…she turned and saw Loki…he was far behind, but his face came in focus…he was crying…Jane began to make her way toward him, to comfort him…but Thor grabbed her arm…she struggled…she began to run…Loki…but he turned away from her…wait…she tried to run faster…no use…he was gone…_

Her dreams that night previous were of her own mind. She was losing the connection to him, he felt further away.

It had been a week since he had disappeared and Jane was ready to go home. To the brown of the desert and the relentless heat of an overbearing sun. Wonderful.

She had been, if she was honest, waiting for him. What she expected she really couldn't say. She hoped that her visions that were now nearly non-existent were true, though. That he was in Asgard and not merely traversing the empty void.

Though she was cutting her trip short by two weeks…

Maybe she should stay. See the first breath of spring. Hear the birds chirp and coo.

* * *

It was a placid morning. Jane's coat became cumbersome…the first week of March always held a mystery. Would it be frigid? Would the air suddenly tease at warmth? Would the shadows conceal the prickly chill and the sun in the open be a balm to the endless winter?

The latter, it would seem. She couldn't decide whether to take off her coat or not.

She approached the house, stationed as it was, in perfect proximation to the wood, the lake, the field behind it in its endless frozen weeds.

And she saw the tall black figure of Loki standing outside of her door, leaning against it, his back toward her.

Her pace quickened. Her heart thrummed a bit, anticipating a smile and the familiar tones of his voice in greeting.

Her hand touched his arm, and he turned.

His face was streaming with tears.

"What's wrong?!" Jane yelled.

He shook his head.

"Come into the house, Loki," and she opened the door and they entered.

Loki went to the sofa and sat, putting his head in his hands and whimpering. Jane sat beside him and rubbed circles on his back.

Finally, after many minutes he stopped and sat up, heaving back into the sofa.

Jane folded her hands on her lap, waiting for him to speak.

"I'm sorry I've disturbed you," he said.

"I'm glad you're here."

"You will find yourself very much alone in that sentiment, Jane."

"I don't care," she replied.

He got up, much more fluid in his movement, he must be all but healed completely.

He turned toward her, standing by the window overlooking the lake. "I was in Asgard, and Thor and Odin are pleased to believe me dead."

"Did you ever announce yourself?" she paused. "I saw a bit…you were lurking in a corner."

"No…I had seen and heard enough. They were joyful, happy that I was gone…they made mention of how they would not need to worry about my temper any longer…my rage…my insatiable need for attention and power…" he ran his hands through his hair. "And what a fool I was. I thought that they would take some delight in my life. That Thor, at least cared…even a little. Of course I saved him from that brute…he told Odin such, which was why I was given a proper funeral," he murmured that last bit. His head shook violently. "But what folly! What do they care? I've only ever been a hindrance, an obstacle. A mistake."

He began to pace. "Yes…I've been a mistake. I was a mistake, and the cosmos must needs deal with it…or at least they have suffered dearly for fate's lunacy. I am a stain on the legacy of the All-Father…a joke to the pride of Thor…I am not worth the trouble of forgiveness, for my nature demands that no one offers that kindness to me…"

"Stop it, Loki. None of that is true…" Jane began to protest.

"What do you know of it, mortal woman?!" he spat. "Do you pretend to understand what hell I've seen…what I've experienced because you happen by chance to be privy to random states of my life? My life…" he mumbled. He was distracted. His eyes threatened tears once more. "What a quagmire of muck and comical coincidence. But I am to enjoy no serendipity. I have not the luxury of hope…"

Jane got up and went to him.

He looked at her. "And must I suffer thus?" tears once more. "For many millennia? For countless hours of vacuity? What's to become of me?"

Jane was crying now. These thoughts pervaded her own mind, not so long ago. She was desperate, as Loki now was…and part of her tongue still tasted the rust of that torment.

"I don't know," she said.

"No. Nor do I."

And in that moment, Jane felt the need to hold him. She didn't know if he would blanch and balk at the physical contact, but she wanted to give him some comfort…so she reached for him and pulled him close.

And they wept together as her arms held him tightly and as he returned her offering.

She pulled away first.

"If you believe you are a mistake, then it's a happy one. If you believe that you are a villain, then you're not without hope of redemption. But know this, Loki Odinson. You have been a comfort to me in my darkest hour, and for that I can never be sorry…and I'm happy to show you kindness."

"Kindness," he repeated.

"Yes."

He swallowed.

Something changed in the atmosphere…the air, once stale from the age of the house became fluid and alive. The sun, only recently effervescent in the March sky, bloomed a deep red in the exceptional beauty of the instant.

Loki grabbed her, and unlike the previous two interludes of physical intimacy they had shared, however abbreviated, this was passionate and strong.

He tore her clothes off and had her against the wall, Jane responding in kind.

And they were drunk in the singular moment unfolding…and kisses, and moans, and laughter, and arms, legs, tongues, mouths, all forming a tonic to the intensity of the many pent up feelings they both had suffered.

And when he entered her, a peace suddenly descended, for he was reuniting with that bit of magic he had lost, and it felt more real and more honest than anything Loki had ever experienced. He had found himself, quite literally, with Jane.

They had moved to the fire, and Jane laid next to him, covered in sweat and the afghan.

His hair was all over, and it was something to behold. He was sitting upright, staring into the fire. Jane laughed at the sight of his disheveled hair.

"What's funny?" he asked.

"I'm not used to seeing your hair like that. It's always so rigid and pulled away from your face."

He shrugged.

Jane noticed his chest now, and there was hardly a hint of what had been so gruesome just a few weeks ago. She traced her finger along the stamp of the wound, barely visible.

He took her hand and smiled down at her. "I suppose that needed doing as well…"

"I suppose so."

"Do you regret it?" he was hesitant.

"No…do you?' concern thinly veiled in her voice.

"No."

Jane nodded, and pulled the afghan close. "What now?"

He sighed and rubbed his face, dropping her hand. "I suppose the right answer is that I leave you to deal with Thor…I believe that he will be making his way to Midgard to see you…"

"Great," Jane muttered.

He smiled at her. "I do not know if he loves you, but he's certainly determined."

Jane ignored that. "And what are the other answers?"

"Well…" he began. "I could take you to Asgard and save him the trip."

Jane looked away. She wasn't certain what she wanted or expected him to say, she only knew that she wasn't hearing it from him. "No. I don't want to go to Asgard."

"Thor cannot find me here. He would likely kill us both."

Jane got up and wrapped the blanket close around her and went to the kitchen to make tea. "I know that. I don't know what I want…"

Loki got up too, conjuring pants. "You want peace. You desire familiarity. You seek serenity in the haze of winter."

She looked up. "Yeah. Nicely put."

He smiled. "It's a gift," he paused. "Or perhaps you merely wish for summer…with its red and green…" he stopped, recalling the reds and greens he had left splattered in the snow.

Jane recognized the reference, and her face dropped. "Yes…reds and greens…not the browns and whites of the desert…" Somehow, these were allusions to something else…unnamable as of yet. "When will Thor be coming?"

"I'm uncertain…"

"Where will you go?'

Loki looked around the room, as if he could hide away in the slight space of the house. He laughed. "Perhaps I'll visit a Midgardian city."

"That's a great idea…" she chided. "Loki," she paused. "You should go and talk to Odin while Thor is here."

His face fell. "No."

"Why?"

"I have no wish to talk to him."

Jane shrugged. "Ok," and she poured out her tea. "Will you leave, then?"

"I haven't thought about it."

"You could stay…you know…a few hours or so…" and she smiled.

He nodded, and took the cup from the counter separating them.

He would stay, and in a few hours, hide away when the Thunder God makes his appearance.


	6. Chapter 6

Heimdall was standing at his post. He had seen much of what had been happening with Thor's mortal, and was not prepared to enlighten the Thunder God. It would be useless, for Thor was not the sort to take heed of any advice, nor would his reaction be soft. Heimdall didn't concern himself with many matters such as these, and he wasn't about to start now.

So when Thor came to him telling him he would be using the Bifrost to visit Jane Foster, Heimdall merely nodded. Let the prince discover, or not discover, for himself what was waiting for him on Midgard.

* * *

And Jane and Loki had talked and laughed. They had been joyful for the first time in what seemed like years to one, months to another. They spoke of memories, they spoke of literature, stories they knew, and ones they didn't. But the laughter was the balm, the language moving in tandem…and the union they had shared was not discussed further, but acted as a means to bring them closer…they knew each other…more profoundly now…and the ache swelling in Loki's heart at the knowledge that this would be a short lived time, that the peace to be found in someone who understood him was a fleeting spring of a season, was ignored. How could he dwell on such a thing, when summer's heat was but a drop of dew on a dying flower? When all that he longed for was another's conquest? He was no fool. Jane may deny that she didn't love Thor, but when his brother would come for her in all of his glory, how would she be able to resist?

But Jane's depths were untraversed, at least by Loki as of yet, and her heart was true. She had, in these hours of mutual connection, grown to care for the dark prince. She had, to this point, been using him, to be sure. She needed his comfort, and his reassurance that she was not mad. She reveled in their consummation of mutual despair, and it was a segue to a more intimate knowledge of him. It was a dark path she roamed, and Loki had met her there at the end, held out his hand in his own misery, and they went on together, finding the summer sun at the gape of the exit.

Was she healed? Partly, yes. She had been cheerful at most points in her life, her melancholy sneaking in and slamming her with brute force and quite abrupt; it was vengeful and angry, and Jane could never understand its nature. Unsettling for a scientist, more acute for a romantic.

Was he? Not really…for his character demanded a much stronger opiate than the mortal could afford. But he had tasted her medicine, and it quieted the raw nerves of his mind. It was a beginning. It was spring's whisper of promise in winter's creeping thaw.

Three hours passed thus, and Loki began to fret at the thought of Thor's emergence.

"I should go, Jane. I feel Thor's oncoming presence…he will be here shortly," and he got up.

Jane nodded. "Ok. Well…" she wasn't certain if this was goodbye…if it was a parting of short duration, if it was permanent, or something else entirely. "When will I see you again?"

"You wish to see me again?" doubt peppered his question.

"Um…well…sure. We are friends…maybe a bit more?"

He laughed. "A bit more…" he thought he should kiss her. A slight kiss, one that would leave no mark for Thor's examining eyes. "Yes. I'll come back. My magic is healed along with my wound. If you desire it, I shall return." But something stopped him, and he didn't.

Jane nodded.

Loki disappeared.

And there was a crash outside.

Jane went to the door to find Thor in his impressive state standing a few feet away.

* * *

"Jane Foster! You are a sight for sore eyes!" He came up to her and wrapped his arms around her. "What in the name of all that's holy are you doing here…in this frozen air of Midgard?"

"I…well…I needed to get away, and I own this house."

"You own this structure?" He looked apprehensively at the house behind them.

"Mmmhmmm," and she struggled out of his embrace.

"Come now, Jane. Do not be cross. I know it's been some time, but there was Loki's funeral, and then Odin has been ill…and I've needed to see to the Frost Giants and their dignitaries and such…"

Jane laughed and walked inside. She hadn't thought of the two teacups…or of the pillows all over the floor…or the furniture moved in disarray…or her clothes scattered about. But apparently, Loki had, for the place was in complete order when they went in.

"Would you like some tea?"

Thor sat on the easy chair. "I suppose, yes. That would be refreshing, thank you."

She handed him a cup. "I'm not angry, Thor. I'm used to it."

"Jane…you know that I care very much for you."

"Do you now? You have odd ways of showing it."

Thor wrinkled his face in frustration. "I am a prince, and I have responsibilities. Surely you understand."

"I guess I'm just not important enough to be listed among your many responsibilities."

"That, Jane Foster, is unfair."

She sat down on the sofa. "And so is neglect of someone you are supposed to care about."

"Come to Asgard with me, and I shall prove myself to you."

Jane looked at him with disbelief. "I don't want to go to Asgard."

"Why ever not?"

Because Loki won't be there, a small voice said. "Because I want to stay here," she paused. "How was the funeral? For Loki?"

"It was devastating. We had no body…"

"No."

"And I thought he was just beginning to…change…change back to the brother I knew and loved. The one who laughed…"

Jane recalled his laughter.

"…the one who could spin tales…"

She smiled at the remembrance of his stories.

"…the one whose language is like poetry…"

She thought about his torment when he spoke about Odin and Thor not caring about his being dead, and how even in that state, he was eloquent and profound.

"I'm sorry, Thor."

He nodded. "As am I."

She could end his sadness, tell him that Loki was still alive…but she thought that Loki would never forgive such a betrayal, and his anger was something she feared, his favor important to her.

"Well…what are you doing here? Friendly visit?"

"I'm here to take you to Asgard."

Jane laughed. "No. No way. I don't want to go."

Thor nodded. "Then might I stay here with you? For the evening?"

Jane swallowed hard. "I…guess so…"

So they sat and talked. Well, Thor did most of the talking. And it wasn't unpleasant. Jane laughed and enjoyed his conversation.

But there was something wanting in his voice. It lacked a dulcet tone, a refined language, a purposeful meaning. It was that want that Jane began to worry at her danger of falling for the other brother. Was she?

Impossible, as she examined Thor's too blonde beard that was too thick and a face that was not smooth. Never, as her eyes roamed his sinewy frame, too bumpy and imposing…it lacked grace and conviction, brute came to mind. Unthinkable, as she examined his fingers, devoid of magic and stilted in their length.

And her mind drifted to a few long hours previous…the tangle of her body and the beat of breath and the cries of pleasure and a moment of promise…and how delicately her body fit with his…the column of his throat harboring his pulse in rapid motion…and Jane reaching for it, pulling him close…

"Jane?"

"Hmmm?" she smiled.

"You are distracted."

"I'm not…"

Thor smirked. "Well…you aren't paying attention."

She cleared her throat. "No, I guess I wasn't."

"Jane, come to Asgard."

"No."

He sighed heavily. "Something is wrong."

"Nope," and she got up, taking the cups away.

"You deny it, but I see that there is something bothering you."

Loki would have guessed that ages ago…stop it, Jane. "Nothing. I just don't want to go to Asgard."

Thor was standing behind her. She turned right into him. "Whoa! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Will you think about it, at least?"

She looked into his eyes. She smiled at their blue, not quite green enough…though his contained blue in their depths…she had them nearly on memory…"Yes."

And Thor kissed her, it was soft, and when he pulled away, he looked steadily at her, with confusion momentarily gracing his visage. He sensed something…but since it was yet obscure in her, he dismissed it. "I'll be back in two days' time."

"You will?" she doubted.

"You have my word." He left the house, and disappeared.

Jane let out a very loud sigh and rubbed her face.

"I wish I could believe his sadness, but it was too forced and too profound to be tenable."

Jane turned around. "Loki!"

He smirked. "Guilty," he came closer to her, as he was standing by the fire. "So…what shall you do, Jane? Will you allow him to take you to Asgard?"

"I don't want to go…" she shrugged.

"No, so you indicated. Why ever not? It is a lovely place, as you have seen."

"Because I don't want that sort of attention from Thor."

Loki swallowed. He was leaning against the counter, the only obstacle between them. "Perhaps it would do you well for a change in scenery…perhaps it needn't just be a barrage of Thor's attempts to court you."

Jane rolled her eyes and went to the chair in the sitting room. "I don't want to go. Why do you and he insist that I go? It's annoying."

Because, if she stayed here, he would likely be here too…and then they'd succumb once…twice…perhaps many times more…and then…perhaps that dead muscle in his chest would find its breath, and perhaps he would allow it, and then…what if she refused him? Surely she would. And how could he allow her to, anyway? He was a dead man. Dead, to everyone but this mortal. How fitting that she would then be the catalyst for a reawakening of his heart…

But no. He couldn't do it. It was against his very soul to be moved thus, and if he cared for her at all, he wouldn't drag her along his sordid journey.

"Because, Jane Foster. Thor cares for you, and you would do well to return it."

Her look was indescribable. Shock. Hurt. Contempt. Bitterness. Malice. "What did you say?" her voice a whisper.

He shrunk a bit as he sat on the sofa. "I…"

"Fuck you."

"Now, Jane…"

"No! Fuck you, Loki! What about my feelings? My wants? MY life?! This is my life, not your's, or Thor's or anyone else's. And where is my say? Just because he's a prince of Asgard doesn't mean that he can just do what he wants!"

"Well…actually, it rather does…"

She stood. "Get out."

He looked at her. "You want me to leave?"

Her breath stuttered. If she said yes, he'd never be back, she knew it. He was vindictive. But did she want him to stay…?

Yes. She did.

"No," she hung her head. "But you can't expect me to just be Ok with gods playing with my life. I mean…I'm not in love with him…I can't change that."

"He might be able to change it for you," Loki said demurely.

"Is that what you want? You want me to marry Thor?"

"It would be the simplest solution."

She shook her head. "To what?"

"To this…situation," and he waved his hand around.

"We aren't in a relationship, Loki."

He smiled. "I realize that."

Jane's heart was beating fast. "I'm not going to marry Thor."

Loki nodded.

She sat back down. She looked into the fire. "I wish that there was an easy way…"

"There seldom is."

"I guess not."

Loki sighed. "Well…what will you tell him?"

"I don't know."

"You need an answer."

"But I have another question," and she looked at him. "What about us?"

He returned her gaze. "Us?… Nothing."

"Nothing," she repeated.

"What would you like me to do? Confess some sort of love? I'm a dead man. A vagabond. What could I possibly offer you?"

She shrugged. "We could live out our days here…in the anonymity of New England's woods."

He laughed heartily. "Why?"

Her lip trembled. "Because I'm falling in love with you."

He froze. Oh, gods…what had he done…"You need to go to Asgard."

And Jane began to cry. She nodded. But she would never go.

"Dearest Jane…please….you must know…I cannot…" he was kneeling in front of her, begging for her to stop. "I'm nothing…even if I returned your feeling…I am a villain…and you…you are a pale light in the depth of my being…but I can never, ever be what you need…"

She heaved and looked at him. "I could kindle that light…create a spark…if you let me…"

He touched her face. He shook his head. He kissed her mouth…and Jane grabbed him, pulling him close. And the salt of her tears mingled with their mouths. And he finally pulled away. "Jane…please…" he held her shoulders. "…please…I cannot hope to want…"

"Do you love me?" she was desperate.

He swallowed. "I don't know."

"How can you not know?"

"Because…it's been too long…"

Jane shook her head and leaned back. She sighed. "If I told you that I was going to Asgard to marry Thor, how would you feel?"

He rocked back from his haunches and sat down. "Like it was a wise choice for you to make."

"No…I mean how would YOU FEEL."

He ran his hand through his hair. He looked away…beyond Jane. "Like a bit of me was lost forever, still coiling about in the void…like the tapestry of stars were dimmed…like the bloom of the garden became dulled…like the music playing in Asgard forever changed in its timbre, and somehow less exquisite…"

And she sobbed more heavily now. "Oh, god Loki…" she shook her head.

"It cannot be, Jane. I'm sorry…"

And with that, his pain was profound. He couldn't bear it a second longer. He needed to get away…for he had done the unthinkable, and he required space to undo it.

He disappeared from her, and Jane Foster was left there, feeling as though she had been speared through the chest, and all that awaited her was the agony of the void, haplessly wandering in mad pursuit of inaction, living another life…

She was falling…in love…in despair….why not go to Asgard and marry Thor? If she couldn't be with Loki, then it was as good of solution as anything.


	7. Chapter 7

_I've thought about this chapter all morning...I will update "King" either later today or __tomorrow. Thanks so much for reading!_

_This chapter I dedicate to my grandfather. He passed away last year, and I imagined him as the character here…I hope I did him justice, for he was my hero, and the very best of men._

* * *

Jane was scrubbing. She cleaned the house with wild abandon. She had left it in a bit of a mess in her depression, and now that she had firmed her mind and felt better in general, she needed to clean.

It can be observed that her desire to scour the house was in part to rid herself of Loki. This was for naught, of course, for though she told herself that she was merely falling in an active sense, she had quite literally ceased the movement and was planted firmly on the ground. She was in love for the first time in many, many years. It hadn't taken much, but she could not deny that he had moved her, that their sharing of mutual despair was the most intimate thing she had ever experienced, for she had hid that tendency, locked it safe away in her writings. No one had ever known the degree to which she had suffered her mental turmoil, until now. Until Loki had seen her, naked and raw, terrified and beaten. And she saw him, and though she didn't believe that she could save him, for he was complex and his wounds were deep, she had thought that perhaps, she might be able to hold his hand.

It was done. And Thor would be coming. Jane collected her things, and went outside.

Her breath wasn't as liquid, the air more fluid. Spring was inching her way into the forest. The lake was motive in its state…no longer did the haze sing blue, the vapor had fled to the atmosphere, joining in a sensual effort to create the clouds which hung above in buoyant position. No…it was clear now…like Jane's mind. It was beautiful, like her heart. It was reborn, like her person. Green was to be spied in the setting, and she recalled how she imagined the grin of the green to announce spring…though green held a different meaning now, and would forever carry with it a certain sorrow.

Jane heard a hum, and then a crash, and then…by the lake stood the Thunder God.

She inhaled deeply and smiled.

* * *

It was a rainy night in Boston.

Loki Odinson had changed his appearance slightly…his hair was very light brown, short, curly, and his complexion not quite so pale. He thought that it would suffice for his purposes, for though he knew he couldn't linger long in Boston, he had no desire just yet to move on to the other realms which held no comfort. Comfort was here on Midgard, at least at the moment.

But comfort would be soon making her way to Asgard, and there he would never deign to go again. The place was lost to him. The thought of seeing his comfort in the arms of another, of his brother, was too much to even contemplate. So he would stay here for the time being…until her loss was keenly felt, and then he would go…go somewhere…anywhere…but here and Asgard.

He walked into a dark pub and sat at the long end of the bar. He seldom took to drink, but now, it somehow felt like the most logical thing to do.

"Well, friend, what'll it be?"

He could end his life so easily. "What is your specialty?"

The barkeep looked at him crookedly. "That depends on your preference. You like beer? I got tons on tap. You like liquor? I make a fine vodka tonic."

"I'll have the latter."

"You mean the vodka?"

Loki nodded.

A second later he was sipping the sweet and fizzy liquid. It wasn't unpleasant. He downed it. "Another, please."

The keep obliged.

"You look like someone just kicked your dog," an old man sat next to Loki at the bar.

Loki looked around. The place was fairly empty, but this old man decided to sit next to him and engage him. He sighed. "I don't have a dog."

"No? Everyone should have a dog. Or a cat, or somethin'…keeps your mind off of yourself," the man looked at Loki. "Looks like you could use a bit of distraction. Lady trouble?"

Loki looked. He swallowed. "In a manner of speaking."

"Which manner is that?"

"Ah…well…I mean to say that there was, as you said, lady trouble. But its been sorted."

The man nodded. "You either lost or you gave up."

Loki's eyes narrowed. "I wasn't in the game to begin with."

"You love her?"

Loki drank deeply. "I doesn't matter."

"What's your problem. Of course it matters," the man studied Loki a moment. "How old are you, anyway?"

Loki smirked. "How old would you say?"

"About…34? 35?"

"You're very good," and he nodded at the man.

"Exactly. Young enough to still make stupid mistakes and old enough to be dumb about it."

"I don't think that makes any sense…" Loki wanted desperately to laugh.

"'Course it does. Look, you're young enough to still be blinded by insecurities and stupid stuff. But you're old enough to think that those things are real, because you've felt the pain of it. Pain is a great equalizer…but love…that's divine," and the man downed his beer, and put it in front of him to have the keep refill it.

"Have you been in love?" Loki was drinking his third, and his mind became loose, untethering his tongue and finding amusement in this very old man.

"Of course! Whaddya think? What's the point without it?"

Loki nodded.

"Lots of great sayings about love…"Where there is love, there is life." Ghandi said that. "When Love speaks, the voice of all the gods makes heaven drowsy with the harmony." Shakespeare said that. "Love is all you need." John Lennon. But the wisest of all: Love is the blossom in spring whose fragrance is subtle and its bloom is bright. It spends its winter in patient hesitation, and when it grows, its beauty is profound…"

Loki waited. "…and which of your great minds said that?"

"I did, you idiot."

He laughed. "What's your point? Love is grand…of course. But do you not think that some are not meant to love, or be loved? That some of us are corrupt, by nature unredeemable?"

"Are you serious?"

"Completely."

The man shook his head. "What happened to you?"

"I…well…" so much…but…"I discovered that my parents weren't my parents…that they had lied to me my entire life…and it rather destroyed things."

The man laughed.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"Sure I am. Ok…so they lied to you…maybe they thought they were protecting you…"

True…

"Maybe they loved you too much to upset you at a young age, so they kept it from you to spare you and it just got away from them…"

Not likely…

"But whatever the reason, I fail to see how that effects you and your lady."

"She's not my lady. She's my brother's," he spat the words.

"Jesus," the man's look was aghast. "What the fuck. Is this Days of Our Lives?"

"What?"

"Soap opera…never mind," he shook his head. "Are you in love with her?"

Loki's breath stuttered. "How can I know?"

"Didn't anyone ever talk to you, boy? Haven't you ever been in love before?"

Loki looked away. "A very long time ago…"

"What were ya, five?" and the man laughed.

Loki's first inclination was to clap his hands and snuff out this old man. But something bade him to stop, so he laughed with him. "No…but I was full young."

"Can you imagine life without her?"

Loki swallowed. "I…can, but it's hideous."

"Does she make you feel whole? Like something had been missing your entire life, but now, with her, you've found it?"

"Perhaps."

"You like spending time with her?"

Loki nodded.

"You have fun?"

Again, he nodded…thinking of the stories he had told and had listened to her tell…and the laughter.

"Well…that's love, I think," and he downed the beer.

Loki rubbed his face. "What do I do?"

"You get off of your ass and you tell her, for christ sake. Jesus. What do they teach kids in schools?" he stopped. "But you're British, huh?"

"I…"

"Don't matter, I guess…no one teaches that stuff anymore. All the good stuff…ya know…Shakespeare and Whitman and Browning and Shelley and even Homer…it's about life! Seizing the moment, for tomorrow you die! And love, for gods sake…love above all else. The most precious thing we've got."

"You are a wise man," Loki observed.

"I hope so. I'm old enough…"

"Sometimes, I think, age is inconsequential," he said, thinking of himself. "Sometimes a fool is very old, and wisdom can be found in the young…but in your case, I believe your age has proven fruitful…"

The man smiled and nodded.

Loki continued. "What is it that you would want most in this world? If there was one thing…one thing that would make your life better…what would it be?"

Without hesitation, he said, "To have my wife back. She passed away about three years ago, and my life hasn't been the same…"

Loki stood and shook the man's hand. He hadn't offered that kind of gesture in many years. "I'm sure that you'll find what you're looking for," he said.

"And I hope you get that lady, and that she's worth it. To hell with your brother," he laughed.

Loki Odinson left the bar, still not quite certain what he would do, but feeling as though things weren't wholly dire.

* * *

And the old man wound his way through Boston's many streets, and the drink made him loopy, and the rising sun made him squint. And he made his way to the house, the house where Anne and he had lived fifty plus years, and had enjoyed so much, and had made love in earnest, had two kids, had fought, and had laughed most of all.

And where she had died on that pale April morning…

"Hello?" Anne's voice rang out.

And the man fell to the floor in a faint. "Anne? Is that…?"

Their embrace was sparkling, their reach intense…and March's promise dispelled April's death…

* * *

"Jane!" Loki burst through space in the sitting room…the place was deserted. The fire finally losing its heat.

He was too late.

His hand touched the sofa. Of course he was too late…he had no idea what he was doing, anyway.

He went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water.

His gaze wandered, taking in the house where it all happened. There, they had kissed their first, there, she had tended to his wound, there she laughed at his stories…there, they had made love in desperate need…

His head fell. His eyes caught some handwriting on a crumpled piece of paper. He picked it from the bin…

"…I love that which bends…"

Bends. She loves that which bends…he swallowed. He could be that. He could yield…though his pain was so consuming, he could let her help him. He might always be difficult…but then, life would be interesting, and he smiled.

But she was going to marry Thor…she was in Asgard…perhaps if he hid himself the way he had…perhaps if they didn't see him at all, he could gain her attention and speak with her.

And tell her what…?

"When love speaks the voice of all the gods makes heaven drowsy with the harmony…" the man had said. How appropriate.

Did he love her?

He had to. No other answer was conceivable. And if the elder was correct, it was the only thing that truly mattered…

Loki braced himself for the song of Asgard….


	8. Chapter 8

_so...I'm ridiculously preoccupied with this story. I cannot account for it, but I hope that those of you who have this on alert aren't too bothered by the onset of emails. _

_This chapter, then likely two more, and we're done. Then I shall sink into Helheim and school work (though it can be argued that the two are interchangeable)._

* * *

Odin was quite content at his station. Here, he witnessed his eldest son as he confessed his love for a lady. It was the moment he had so longed for, for now he was secure in his line, and he could make his way to Valhalla…he could see Frigga and Loki.

Loki…his poor despondent son. How he longed to see him once more, to tell him that he loved him. But perhaps it was for the best, and in the afterworld he would be granted reconciliation.

And Heimdall knew that Loki lived still, and was it treachery to not tell the All-Father? Perhaps. But Odin had not asked, so it wasn't a lie…it merely wasn't the entire truth.

So when he sensed the Prince's presence in Asgard, cloaked as he was, he said nothing, he knew why the Prince was here, and either he would reveal himself or he wouldn't.

* * *

He remained in quiet invisibility. He slunk along, taking notice of the merriment…a wedding. The flowers chosen were certainly indicative of the ceremony. He sighed in the corridor of the lower passage of the grand palace. How he knew her depths! He could navigate her blindfold if the need ever arose.

But it was oddly silent. Where was everyone? These festivities were always held as the sky altered its hues in welcoming night. It was still a few hours until that time presented…

He roamed the palace seeking her…any evidence of her…any at all. His eyes scanned the halls…he went to the guest quarters, for surely they wouldn't be married yet, which meant that she wouldn't be in the royal wing.

Nothing.

He went back down toward the gardens. She had tarried long in such cold isolation, perhaps she longed for the warmth the gardens afforded.

And then he saw them.

She was beautiful. So much more beautiful here in Asgard's light…her hair pulled up…her dress pale rose…she was smiling. And he recalled that smile with fondness..and his brother touched her face, kissed her forehead.

Anger swelled…jealousy brimmed, and he nearly forgot himself there and then. He was so close to the edge, that his spell almost broke. By the gods, he was far gone. He had no idea the depth of it until just now…when his aura blackened with such stinging resentment. How dare Thor take yet another thing! How dare he love her! Jane! She loved him! or, she did…

…and he had abandoned her, and she was only doing what he had advised her to do…

He slammed his back against the column. He was perspiring and shaking, his breath coming in rapid spurts. He could kill him now…no one would ever know…and take her away from Thor…and they could do just as she had said…and live in quiet anonymity reading, writing, talking…laughing, making love…

But what would that make him? His brother's murderer. And she would never forgive him, nor would he forgive himself.

He felt like retching…to devoid himself of the alcohol still lingering and effecting his mood.

Too late…too late…the agony of inaction and confusion…his fingers would not cease their flutter. His hands were in distress…echoing the turmoil in his mind.

And he turned to see Thor leaving her. And she smiled in his wake. And her face turned sorrowful, and he stepped around the column, his brother brushing past him in hurried manner.

She loved Thor…was she so changeful? No. He, Loki, was not worthy, and she saw that now. He was right in his abandonment.

But he would go to Thor…and he sneered.

* * *

Thor was humming, and smiling and boisterous in his mirth.

"Well…Thor…fancy seeing you on the day of your nuptials."

Thor whirled around to see his dead brother standing in his room.

"Loki!" he breathed. "Are you…?"

"Real, yes…" and he took a pen from the desk, twirling it in his long digits. "Have you taken to the written word, brother? I cannot recall ever having seen such an instrument in your possession."

"How?"

"Well…as I understand, one needs a piece of paper, some basic knowledge of words…"

"LOKI! How are you alive…here…unharmed…?" Thor was livid.

"Funny story, that…" he began. He stopped. He wouldn't wound Jane further. He swallowed. "I traversed the void until I found a safe haven and healed myself."

"You are alive…"

"Yes…we've established that…"

Thor went and embraced him, crying. "Oh, brother, I cannot believe it! Have you seen our father?"

"Your father, and no…perhaps later…I rather think that he will be less than pleased…"

"How can you say that?"

"With great ease, Thor. Neither of you were terribly concerned at my death…in fact, I had heard you were joyful," and he walked to the window.

"We were devastated."

"Lies are unbecoming to your virtuous lips."

Thor shook his head. "Loki, we love you…"

"Ha!" and he turned with malice. "Love! Does love mean that when your brother dies, you rejoice in the fact that you'll be spared his temper? his anger? his insanity? Does love mean that you smile and smirk at his funeral? Do tell, Thor…you are the expert…"

"I…you heard that?"

"Indeed."

Thor swallowed and looked away. "We were merely attempting to state the things that would quell our misery…that of everything that we would miss, those would be the things we would not…just as you would not miss my naive ways, or my longing for battle…"

Loki appeared dumbfounded. "I heard not that caveat…"

"You hear what you like, or else your eavesdropping was ill-timed."

Loki swallowed and nodded.

"You were here…all the while? Invisible?"

"No…not all the while…but yes. I had heard some things."

"Well…you must take to your rooms, Loki…I'm certain you are quite fatigued."

Loki nodded. He was. Very. And in an instant, he was gone.

* * *

He had slept for a great long while, having not been in his own bed for a few months.

When he opened his eyes, he heard music. He wondered a moment why Thor didn't want him to attend his wedding…but he thought it was for the best. He would sneak out of Asgard and none would be the wiser. Many may even say that Thor was insane if he told anyone about his seeing him.

He left and went downstairs.

He went to his garden, to see it once more, it was quite hidden in the expanse of the plentiful gardens.

And there, in the soft light descending from the stars, was Jane Foster.

He should offer his best to her, he owed her that.

She must have sensed his presence, for she turned and saw him.

Her breath caught in her throat. "Loki."

"Hello, Jane. I see you found my garden."

She looked around her. "This is your's?"

"Yes, it is," and he walked slightly toward her.

"Jane! Come back to the hall!" Thor was entering the garden. "Loki! You are feeling better?"

Loki swallowed, and looked between the two. Thor always ruined everything. "Well…allow me to offer you my congratulations."

"Thank you, brother. It means a great deal."

"She is a fine lady."

"She is indeed," Thor replied.

Loki looked at Jane. "You have gained yourself quite a family, Jane."

She looked at him. 'Have I?"

"And you, brother…she does have such sweet lips…an eternity would be insufficient to fully appreciate them," hurt stinging his words.

"Loki…what do you mean?"

"Oh…hasn't she told you?" the anger building, he unable to cease the vitriol emerging from his tongue. "We met on Midgard...and she was attentive…and though I thought for a moment that she cared for me…I could never compare to you, brother mine," he hissed. "Though she had been eager enough…"

"Loki, what in the name of Odin are you talking about?"

And Jane's eyes spilled. "You…to make what happened sound so ugly…"

"What are you talking about, Thor?" he asked, ignoring Jane. "I speak of your wife," he spat.

"Oh my god," Jane whispered, finally understanding the confusion.

"You mean…Sif?"

"What." Loki stated blankly.

"Sif…my wife…I didn't call you down…have not spoken of your presence…but she will like to see you…embrace you as her brother…"

Loki's face fell. "Sif? Sif is your wife…?" He looked to Jane for confirmation.

"Sif is his wife, yes," Jane answered. "I told you, Loki…I am not so fickle…"

"You told him?" Thor asked, confused.

Jane swallowed. "I need to get back," she was not able to face Loki just yet, having resolved not to see him again. "We can talk later, Ok?"

Loki nodded, unable to speak.

"You'll need to see the All-Father, Loki…but I think…it seems you need some time," Thor touched his brother's hand and left the garden.

And Loki fell in his exhaustion, in his relief, in his doubt, in his anger and his love…for he could not believe that chance had smiled upon him so generously. The stars he so loved mingled in soundless consummation above, smiling on him and his folly, and he fancied they whispered the hope of want, of chance, of something so foreign to his heart…could he be that fortunate?

Loki stood after a spell, and went to find Odin.

* * *

"You will find a humbled father, Loki," said Odin, not turning to face his wayward son.

"And you will find a bitter son, Odin," replied the Prince.

At this he turned. "But why? Nothing is ever enough for you…you seek and seek and flail about in useless quest. Your mother…"

"Do not mention her."

"I loved her."

"You didn't deserve that privilege. To love, Odin, is to submit…that you can never do," and Loki stepped forward.

"What does Loki know of love? How have you submitted, as you term it?"

"A bit more than you, and in more ways than you know, I'd venture to say..."

"How? What has happened to you? Thor told me…"

"Thor! Ah yes, Thor knows the inter workings of my heart and mind. Thor understands the torment I've suffered…still suffer…at your hand! He's a simpleton. Though he has his merits, small though they may be," Loki finished his diatribe.

"Thor is virtuous! You…"

"…are not."

"You sell yourself short, as always," observed Odin.

"Do I? And what shall I pander? My wares run thin…a battered body…no family to speak of…"

"I am your father."

"YOU are no such thing."

Odin shook his head, smiling. "No? Who cared for you as a child? Raised you? Who taught you what you know…" he held up his hand in protest at Loki's looming interjection. "If you say Frigga, you would be right, but then she is your mother, as I am your father. And Thor…he is your brother…and I know that you love him."

Loki shook his head. "Do not attempt to fool me. You are displeased that I am alive."

"I feel nothing but joy and relief at your return."

He laughed. "Please, dear father, do spare me your false words."

"I offer only the truth."

"How? How can I possibly believe you?"

"Because, Loki. I love you," Odin replied simply.

Loki swallowed. He was so tired of arguing. So exhausted from the battle constantly raging. He desired to stop. Stop navigating the void. Stop falling and trying to get back up. Stop wrestling with his past and true identity. He wanted peace. He wanted the touch of summer and all of his brutal warmth.

He nodded.

"Loki."

"Yes?"

"Jane Foster is here."

"I know it."

Odin looked knowingly at his second son. "And she is a lovely, lovely woman." He left the room, and went to the party still raging on.

Loki sighed and looked to the ceiling, some fifty feet up in height.

Jane Foster was here.

Jane.


	9. Chapter 9

Loki left the gold of the throne room and entered the inky air of the open corridor. He had no desire for company, he needed to think.

The pulse of hum and voice and cadence of music was felt somewhere in obscure distance. He went the opposite direction.

His ire had been suppressed at Odin's declaration of love. How tiresome to be under the thumb of such rage. Rage, whose glare left him breathless, rage whose scream left him deaf, rage, that mercurial temptress, left nothing but hunger and fingers whose grasp was fruitless. Emptiness was what it yielded. And Loki wanted to be whole. To be filled.

All those weeks in the void…they had made him different. He was open to the thought of feeling, for he had felt the acute alternative. Forever dying, but being denied death. Forever in limbo…neither here nor there…it made a sordid stew.

And Jane. Her presence gave him comfort…and that comfort had created love. How strange it was to be moved thus! He had loved once…a fair warrior, now married to his brother. The beginning of a mess of bizarre loyalties and blind jealousy. Thor forever in favor, be it with his father, his mother, their friends, or Sif.

He loved Jane, impossible though it may seem. His misery had given him permission to bend, as Jane had desired. His isolation was hers. His fear, hers. Yet somehow in this bog of sorrow, beauty was to be found. It could never have occurred otherwise. Only in his desperation would he have allowed himself to be roused in such a way.

And what was he thinking when he grabbed her in lust? That this being, this woman, was the only one who could understand him. She had traversed the halls of desolation with him, and somehow this was the means to freedom. He couldn't allow her to yearn without him, so he took her and guided her out. Out of that place…that state…that limbo…and their union was the beginning of the cure.

It was in his jealousy that the intensity of his feelings were realized. How sick he felt! How out of his mind! To ponder murdering Thor, the only one of his family still living that he believed truly cared for him. But desperation wears a smirking mask, and an ugly verse plays on its lips, curled in its blatant ridicule of the sufferer. He would have done it, had not the love he had for Thor prevented it. Because Jane was his comfort, not his savior, but the succor to his character so broken. Everything about him was ruined. He hardly had a thing to provide.

He sat in the dim of the palace, on a stone bench. The arcs behind him formed wings in their encompassing background. He appeared like an angry angel, as the moons of Asgard rippled their beams in quiet wonder behind him. The air was supple, warm, and held a hint of fragrance, unnamable to anyone whose nose was virgin to the place. It was a tiled corridor, not the marble of the rest. It appeared less grand, more intimate, and tucked away from the main aspects of the building.

He looked up, and brought his hands together. As he opened his hands, tiny specs of light appeared. They danced in between the space, and he raised his hands to his face. They altered their hues, and he blew on them…they took flight, and surrounded the small space, quivering in perpetual movement, illuminating the place where he sat.

Loki sighed and smiled. He could make beauty. He had things…not much, but some things…to give to her. Words. Magic. Company, however dubious.

"Your magic is something to behold."

And he looked up, and the lights fell, sparking their color as they hit the floor.

"Sometimes," was his reply. "Did you enjoy the party?"

"It's still raging on," said Jane. "But I am tired…and thought I needed some quiet."

"I can leave if you like."

"You always think that I don't want your company," and she stepped toward him.

"Force of habit," said Loki.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," returned she. "I should be angry with you…you thought I was married to Thor, after I had so resolutely said I'd never do such a thing."

"What was I to think? You were here, and there was a wedding…"

"You were to think that I loved YOU, and so how could I marry another? Thor came to me, telling me that he was sorry, but that he loved Sif. I asked to come to Asgard for the wedding, believing it would be my final chance to see it…and I was feeling better, so I had my wits back. My desperation not so severe. So I came."

"I see," said Loki.

"Are you so faithless?"

"I am, I suppose."

Jane shook her head. "Why are you here?"

He stood now. He cleared his throat. "I'm here," he hesitated. "…I'm here…" just tell her. "Because I was quite suddenly struck with the idea that I was in love with you. And was desperate to tell you, but then you were married…and I was hurt and angry and betrayed…"

"But I'm not."

"No."

"The idea that you are in love with me? Aren't you sure?" Jane looked at him with doubt.

He sighed heavily, and looked directly into her eyes. "Jane…I've never been so impassioned in my life. I cannot believe it, but my love is so fervent I am unable to contain it…"

"Then don't attempt to," Jane breathed, and she went to him.

She grabbed his shoulders down to her and pulled him close…and he wrapped his arms around her waist and seized her mouth in his.

He moaned at their reunion, not understanding how wretched he was in her absence until that moment. His hands went to her head, pulling at her hair, and it cascaded down her back in liquid brown. He turned her toward the column, and pressed her against it. Their kisses became more passionate…their hands more desperate. Jane could barely breathe from the vigor of the moment. Nor did she want to, for her hunger was only for him.

He caressed her neck, as she pulled her head back toward the ceiling of the hall, and back again, meeting her mouth once more…

She pulled away, he groaned his displeasure. "Never doubt me again, Loki," her breath heaved.

"Never…" he returned, and pulled her flush with him once more. His hand at her breast, his arm around her, his body pinning her in possession.

"Loki…" she pulled her mouth slightly away.

"Hmmm?" his voice muffled as he caressed her neck in desperate appetite.

"Can we go to bed? I'd rather not do this in such a public place…"

He looked at her, his pupils blown in desire…his hand came up to her cheek, and brushed it. "This is real…"

"Yes…this is real," Jane returned.

"How?"

She giggled a bit. "By virtue of you, and me, and our kindred souls, and your magic, and my sorrow, and your understanding, and my wisdom…by everything that we are."

"…and your strength, and my folly, and your beauty, my gloom…"

"You, Loki, are beautiful. Do not ever forget that. I may not be able to convince you that you are worth so much more than what you believe…but if my love means anything to you…then believe that you are worthwhile. To believe otherwise would make me a fool," she had her hands on his chest, and she was rubbing it in a circular motion, offering him the comfort he always sought from her.

"Perhaps you are," his fingers caressing her chin.

"Maybe…maybe I am. But I'm not stupid."

And he brought them to his bed, and divested them of their clothes, and in hot purpose they made love. It was everything their first moment was, but more joyful in its pursuit.

They laid curled in a tangle of limbs, Loki spooning Jane as she slept. He sighed his contentment, burying his face in her hair.

And the silence of Asgard draped their union in a blanket, and the harmony of truth sang in melodious rhythm like the movement of lovers, and their hands clasped together in a soft desperation…memory of isolation still young in their minds. But in the moment they had, it was a fortuitous solemnity, and a serendipitous melancholy, and out of its depths, love was born.


	10. Chapter 10

The sun was high in the New England sky. It dripped its honey rays in steady rhythm. The trees were unfolding their green essence, the newborn leaves so tiny in their birth.

The air was sweet, the breeze, warm. And reds, violets, blues so luminous they recalled the waters of the sea. Color erupted in the expanse of the wood, and life teemed in opulent song.

Jane walked downstairs into the morning, the kitchen windows thrown open to welcome the fragrance, rid itself of the stale thickness of winter's air.

A piece of paper was found on the counter. Long, angular writing graced the surface.

_The slip of star dust lays rust in it's wake, its fits and spurts forgive its haste. Scathingly real, their demure nature trips the soft light of glow._

_And so it is, the fret of feeling...posit chance, love. Place your soul alongside mine. Mingle with moons, and let tears flow in the blazing sun. Bathe in incandescent light of Orion and Andromeda. Wave to the trees, sing to the garden, and smile for me._

_We shall dance in the mists of morning. We shall embrace in the lucidity of day. And when night's first choleric wince threatens, I shall hold you fast in firm grasp, in muted memory, in constant sorrow, in gleeful fancy. In love...with you… in perpetuity._

_I read your poem. Please pardon my curiosity. But I thought that since you appreciated the art, you might be agreeable to read my own…_

Jane smiled…where was he, anyway? She opened the front door.

The sun assaulted her. She balked at its strength. She squinted, and went out into the open. Jane filled her lungs with the welcoming air, and went toward the lake.

It swam in a swirl of algae and lily pads.

_"__Jane! Come in, dear…it's nearly dinner!" her grandmother's voice yelled out._

_"__Hang on, Gran!" _

_She was skipping stones, nearly mastering the art. _

_And then she saw it…a doe and her buck, on the opposite end of the shore. They stopped and looked at her. They were motionless, steady, and graceful. The buck nudged the doe with his stunted antlers, as it was spring, and they were young. _

_Jane fancied that they were in love…though it was a silly notion. But the way they looked at one another, it certainly seemed so. Jane stood frozen, and they bent to obtain a drink from the obliging lake. She smiled at their companionship, and turned to return to the house._

Jane grinned at the memory. She decided to take a walk through the wood…perhaps Loki was lurking there.

She stepped on the carpet of pine needles and moss, suffocating any sound she might make. The temperature had fallen in the absence of the sun, and she pulled her sweater close. Delicately, she padded onward, picking up a stray stick and swinging it absentmindedly, brushing the floor with its length. She gathered stones of notice and put them in her pockets. She picked some flowers for the table. She squatted to gain a better view of some mushrooms.

A snap of a twig…Loki. She pivoted on her haunches, and saw a wolf in the distance, looking at her.

Jane froze. Could it be that same wolf? She swallowed. The beast eyed her…he shifted his weight…

She wasn't scared. For whatever reason, she knew she was fine. The thing heard a sound in the depths of the forest, and scampered off.

How very different things seemed! No longer was she paralyzed by uncertainty. No longer did the cloak of sorrow shield her eyes. She had found her strength…simmering beneath her skin all along. Like Loki's magic…she imagined it lingered still, though he claimed he couldn't state any certainty. She believed he was fibbing, that he did, in fact, know, but she decided not to call him on it.

She sighed, electing to make her way back to the house. She and Loki must've missed one another.

The gape of the wood presented itself, the radiance of light a warm welcome from the gloom of the wood.

She exited. Her eyes adjusted. And what she saw was this:

Loki, in the middle of the land between the wood and the house, standing in a circle of what looked like pollen, or dust, or fairies, or light…dancing around him, in mindless submission. His hand would stretch one way, and the particles would consent. That way, and they'd fly like tiny insects. Both of his hands threw up over his head, and they swirled above him in phosphorescent sway. He was a conductor of color, demanding a symphony of particle movement.

Jane's mouth hung agape.

He spotted her and smiled.

He clapped his hands together once, and the color matter fell in a sift to his palms. He began to walk toward her, and she joined him.

They met, and he held out his hands to her.

In his hands laid a necklace, its coruscate alive in the gem. Every color imaginable was spied, each brilliant and dull, alive and stationary.

"What is it?" Jane asked.

"It is the essence of light," Loki replied.

"The essence of light," Jane repeated, whispering.

"Do you like it?"

"It's…marvelous…" and she reached up to kiss him.

He put it on her, and turned her around…"It was the only thing I could think of to compare to your beauty, but I'm afraid…it is pale in its station."

"Stop it," she laughed and smacked his arm.

They made their way back to the house.

"Did you like the poem?" Loki asked. "I know that you read it."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know you, my alsking."

Jane laughed. "I did. Though I am slightly embarrassed that you read my paltry attempt."

"Why? It forged me forward. I had had some doubts…but your requests were none too dire. I felt like I could adequately bend, as you had asked."

"In more ways than one, I'd say," Jane replied wickedly.

His mouth curled. "Ooooh…you are rather naughty."

He sat on the sofa. "So…Jane…where shall we go? The Realms are at our feet. You are fortunate in your partner, for he can navigate any place in the vast cosmos you love so dear, sans the hindrance of the precarious BiFrost."

She snuggled next to him. "Well…I'm rather partial to Midgard, New England, and quaint cottages at present."

"You have no desire to explore, to roam, to discover the many wonders of other corners of our universe?" and he absently glided his fingers over her arm.

"No. I'm tired of wandering, Loki. And I'm sure you are. Let's enjoy the moment…let's live now, for tomorrow we die…"

He stopped his motion. "What did you say?"

"Tomorrow we die…? I think that's from the Bible…"

He nodded.

"What is it?" she asked.

And Loki told her of the elderly man he met in Boston, and everything that had transpired, and how he had coaxed him to go after her, and how he had given him his wife back. "I hope that they are happy…" he said.

"It sounds like something out of a cheesy romantic comedy…" Jane laughed.

"A what?"

"Nothing," she shook her head. "What will happen, though? You raised her from the dead?"

"Only until he dies. She will then vanish."

"Isn't that…wrong…like, I dunno. Playing god?" and Jane realized what she just said, and laughed heartily.

"I don't need to play, love," and he laughed with her, and seized her in passion.

And though his fits of doubt and sorrow never disappeared altogether, his melancholy subdued with every passing day, his anger quelled, his smile more plentiful and his laughter became more abundant.

Jane, for her part, was always the anchored one, despite her tendency toward the fanciful. She balanced his turmoil, which would present on occasion. And in those moments, when he felt most vulnerable, Jane would hold him, and would tell him of her grandmother, and he of Frigga, and they would find comfort in the physical sorrow their sadness created.

….and the summer raged between them both, and they soon did take to traversing the cosmos as Loki suggested…and the heat of the sun, and the warmth of the fire in the stone hollow of the sitting room, and the sultry gem which hung at her breast never dulled between them.

For in the very depth of their woeful winter they found in one another an invincible summer.

* * *

_Thanks to everyone who followed, favorited and commented. What an engrossing tale to tell! I had someone ask if I listened to music while I write. The answer is no…I am to easily absorbed in music, which is counterintuitive to becoming absorbed in a scene I am writing (which I do, unabashedly). However, for this last chapter, I DID listen to "Music for a Found Harmonium," just for a short spell. This tale was dark, and the final installment cheerful, so the piece was apt. _

_Meet me in Helheim, dear readers! I anticipate a bumpy ride._


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